


Of Two Minds

by TUNiU



Series: Recovery is a Spiral [3]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Angstfest, Episode: s02e05 Saints of Imperfection, M/M, hugh has all the deadened feels after being resurrected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TUNiU/pseuds/TUNiU
Summary: Takes place immediately after Hugh returns from the mycelial realm. Trying to figure out Hugh's headspace upon his return, while also giving nuggets of necessary communication that was missing from the show. Hugh's subconscious knows what he needs even when his active mind is trapped in a loop of nothingness.
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Series: Recovery is a Spiral [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018074
Kudos: 13





	Of Two Minds

“You’re staring,” Hugh said. It was the first words he’d spoken since he’d returned to the Discovery from the Mycelial Realm.

Paul startled. “Oh, sorry,” he apologized. He made a valiant effort to look away, but eventually after several minutes of boredly perusing the sights of sickbay, Paul’s attention veered back to Hugh. At least this time, he wasn’t staring at Hugh’s face. Even still, Hugh could see the crushed expression on Paul’s face, as he looked down intently at their clasped hands.

Hugh shouldn’t have said anything.

The two of them were the only people in sickbay. Doctor Tracy Pollard had quarantined Hugh immediately upon his arrival. It was a good idea. Maybe Hugh was a trap or a sleeper agent or anything except a human body recreated by sentient spores and xeroxed with the memories of a dead man. When Tracy had told Paul to leave as well, Paul had at first just shaken his head mutely. At her insistence, Paul had grabbed Hugh’s hand and said, “ _ I don’t care.”  _ He hadn’t meant about leaving, he’d meant he hadn’t cared if he  _ was  _ the first victim of whatever fakery Hugh might turn out to be.

“You’re staring again,” Hugh said. 

It made him uncomfortable in a way unlike the uncomfortableness he’d been trapped in for the past nine months just trying to survive in the mycelial plane. He wanted it to stop. He didn’t want it to stop, because it was new and different. He hadn’t had new or different in so long. On the wall above where he sat on the biobed, his bio-readings scrolled various information that all labelled him as human. He didn’t feel human. He felt like he was air that had expanded to fit a human shell and any moment he would pop under the tingling tension. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where to look. If he looked at Paul he would see his facial expression, and might have to interact.

He looked at Paul anyway. Their eyes met. Paul looked devastated. Hugh looked away. He was hurting Paul, just by being here broken.

“Maybe you should go,” Hugh said softly.

“Do you want me to go?” Paul asked, his voice breaking in the middle.

_ Yes. _

_ No. _

“It might be best,” he admitted.

“Are you...sure?”

“No.”

“What do you need?”

Hugh shrugged listlessly. Nine months on the run had taught him exactly what he needed: food, water, shelter, and to not be decomposed alive by spore swarms. Just being alive on Discovery provided him all of that. He didn’t really  _ need  _ anything right now. 

“I could get you something while we wait for your results,” Paul offered hopefully. “A book? Or some music?”

Hugh glared at him for a moment, but even that effort was too much and he looked away again. 

“I recently started appreciating your Kassellian opera,” he continued desperately. “We could talk about it.”

“Stop,” Hugh demanded faintly.

“Okay.”

Now he’d made Paul sad again. “You should go,” he repeated.

“Please, don’t make me.”

“Okay.”

Hugh couldn’t stand Paul’s presence anymore. He laid down on the bed and turned his back to where Paul was sitting. He didn’t let go of Paul’s hand, so his arm twisted behind his back. He closed his eyes. The dark was good. Dark meant there were no glowing spores ready to attack. The noise of sickbay: with all its ventilation and machinery humming was too much. Hugh opened his eyes. There was no rest to be found. 

Paul’s free hand started stroking Hugh’s back, soothingly. As a sensation, it grated against his new skin. He wanted it to stop. He also didn’t want it to stop. Hugh flipped over, so now he was facing Paul, which stopped the back rub, but now led him to see Paul’s face. There was an expectation there. Hugh hated it.

Hugh sat up and yanked on Paul’s hand, which he hadn’t stopped holding. He pulled and directed Paul to sit on the biobed, with his back against the wall. Hugh sat in his lap, braced with his knees bent on either side of Paul’s thighs. Hugh relaxed into Paul’s grip and hugged him. Paul’s hands went to Hugh’s back. It still grated. But now Hugh also had a softness clamping around him. So it balanced and he was back to nothing. Now he could hide from Paul, without hurting him.

If Paul couldn’t see his face, he couldn’t stare at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a scene where Hugh is in sickbay, just waiting for his test results. And in the show we got a traumatized Hugh, and a blearily happy Paul who wasn't in tune with Hugh's needs: (pro-tip, do not paw at your broken husband's new skin, when your husband is so clearly giving off such mentally broken blank vibes). 
> 
> I just wanted there to be actual communication, even if it was still geared towards an oblivious Paul.
> 
> [I feel like I'm going to return to this, maybe one day. This is one of those occasions where it's better to get the fic out of my mind and let it percolate for a time, rather than let my mind spiral around the details.]


End file.
